


Throw Down The White Flag

by Royswordsman (RoySwordsman)



Category: Captain America, Captain America (2011), Captain America (Comics), Iron Man (Comic), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alcoholism, Angels, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-29
Updated: 2012-08-29
Packaged: 2017-11-13 03:38:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoySwordsman/pseuds/Royswordsman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Civil War: Tony has to cope with the death of Steve Rogers, his friend and hero. He finds it difficult to cope and relapses into his old ways, and the only person who can pull him out of his funk is the one person who's death he's responsible for. When guilt and hatred as well as self loathing consumes your soul, there's only one way out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Throw Down The White Flag

Just like that he was gone from their lives. Captain America was gone. 

It took months on end for Tony to recover from it, hell, he couldn’t even stand in front of cameras and deliver a coherent speech, and talking in public was his forte. If he couldn’t manage to pull himself together just for that, he didn’t know what he could do. Resorting to drinking again, without his pillar to keep him sturdy, seemed the best option he had. He loved Steve very much and he didn’t need to say it for everyone to know that the feeling was mutual, and it was just a sheer shame that things had to end up this way. 

“I’m glad that came off in the wash...” He muttered to himself, saying the same old fashioned sayings that Steve used to tell him after an argument. But he knew that bloodstains wouldn’t just come off in the wash, no, they’d be with him forever. He would try and scrub at the American flag that was once hanging tall, flying atop of the roof terrace of Stark Tower, with rips and tears from the harsh weather conditions that it had endured and yet it would still fly and beam with pride. Now it was stained with blood and Tony made sure to take it within his two hands and scrub so desperately to clean it, but only ended up tearing it more, and yet, he couldn’t just throw it in the trash; he kept it in his office, tucked into his desk drawer as he tried to hide from it, but there was no hiding from the harsh reality he was surrounded by. 

His eyes were eyes that saw a world in a whole new light, or much rather darkness. He would step out into the new world where his act, his idea had taken seed and as opposed to seeing superheroes cooperate and work together like he had planned, all he could see was the damage that he had done. Tony Stark was a futurist but at the current time all that he could see was the past, replaying in his mind over and over. Yes, had worked hard, damn hard, for what he had gotten now and he wouldn’t change a thing... Well... Only one thing; for the boy from Brooklyn to just see things from his perspective and not rebel against him, not with such venom and hatred, and yet, he expected as such from Steve, it’s a wonder why he couldn’t see this coming. With all the peace he had achieved and with all the casualties of war all he could think was that “it wasn’t worth it...” Nothing was worth the death of his friends and nothing in the world was worth losing the one person who always had faith in him. Now everything was darker than it had ever been, with shadows and ghost of empty souls wandering the streets. Sometimes he would walk along the streets of NYC whenever it was dark, between late night and early morning, before the sun had risen over the horizon and even before the moon had completely moved along to shed its glow elsewhere. At that time, he would walk the empty streets, barely surviving mentally, since he had become so accustomed to living beneath the surface without his shield to protect him. It was then he would see faint silhouettes looking at him, staring as he walked with his head hung and he would feel their sad gaze upon him as though they pitied him. Always alone. Iron Man. 

On some nights, it would rain and he would smile, remembering how the harsh cold droplets over his skin would always be dried away by Steve with a large fluffy white towel if he came into the mansion in that state. 

“You’ll get a cold. The last thing we want is a sick soldier.” 

“There he goes again with his soldier talk,” Tony would think accompanied by an eye roll but like he stated before, he wouldn’t change a thing. He knew the Captain was stuck in his ways, which would often cause issues for him, heck, it caused a war, because the Captain had an opinion that was rooted down like a tree in a storm. 

Now it seemed like the small raindrops felt like waves, crashing over him and drowning him in the past and blood that would stain him forever. This was not how he was supposed to move on; he tried to keep his head held high in the very few public appearances he did make but the weight on his soul resonated throughout his eyes, even has he would smile there would be a glisten of sadness echoing throughout his presence alone.

 

**  
After his walk through the streets of ghosts, parading himself in front of them to give their looks he returned to his desolate home that was littered with papers and machine parts. He walked inside, thinking to himself that there was always one ghost that never showed his face and that was the very one that he wanted to confront.  
Maybe he had gone to heaven if there was such a place? If so how very dare he leave him here to suffer like this. The thought had crossed his mind many times before, and he’d even gone back up to visit his coffin, his real coffin back where he had set it; in the block of ice, back to sink back into the cold seas which he had fallen into once upon a time. But overall this could have been a way of Tony repenting, even though he wasn’t a religious person he had to have some form of justification as to why he wasn’t seeing the hollow figure of his hero in the streets. There must always be a reason for everything and that’s how a scientist’s brain works. 

He walked into his kitchen and slipped off his black blazer, the truth was that he didn’t wear any colour asides from black since Steve’s death; although that wasn’t a conscious decision it became apparent that he was mourning to everyone who saw him, including Pepper who decided that it was best to keep her distance for once. Tony needed space to heal, so they thought, since the man loved to do things independently, but in fact, Tony needed comfort and company. Nothing hurt him more than seeing his teammates turn against him like that and even though many times he had been accused of not having a heart but it was then that he himself felt his heart thud and ache with loneliness.  
It was time to seek comfort in the one thing he knew would look after him, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the Alcoholics Anonymous chip he had earned for managing to stay sober for one entire year. One entire year without even a sip of whiskey was an amazing feat for Tony, but he couldn’t have done it without the help of Steve. It was then that he remembered when he had suddenly had the feeling of being drunk overwhelm him during delivering his speech in the UN conference and completely losing it, after that he had gone to find the reasoning why he had felt this way only to have Hank yell at him and Clint make jokes about how it was typical of him to fall off the wagon. Throughout that entire argument there was one person who believed him about really being sober, and that was Steve who turned around, placed his hand on Tony’s shoulder and said the words he would never forget;  
“I believe you Tony.”  
He flipped the small chip in his hand, shutting his dark blue eyes and throwing it to one side as he walked to the cabinet that he had locked up, yanking the padlock off and opening the cupboard to pull out a bottle of classic Jack Daniels. 

The familiar feeling of his hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle was somewhat soothing; the way his hand slid along the glass as he pulled the top open without even needing a bottle opener. His entire body was so numb from the pain and loss as well as guilt, that he couldn’t feel when opening the bottle had left a large gash along his hand that was oozing blood the instant that he placed it against the cool side of the bottle. This was his saviour. He had slipped so far into darkness there was no use finding a rescue rope, it was time to just accept his fate and slip down to join the other shadows in the abyss of despair. 

“It wasn’t worth it...” He muttered to himself, placing the tip of the bottle to his lips and inhaling the bitter smell that rose into his nostrils that flared at the smell.  
Suddenly a touch. 

A light grab to his shoulder. 

Fingertips slightly curling as they creased the fabric of his messy white shirt. 

For that second, Tony’s heart stopped and the bottle seemed to drift further from his lips that were puckered, ready to soak up the nectar that would soothe his woes.  
He turned, slowly, to meet the bright azure eyes that stared at him with a stern glare. He backed off quickly and stood with his back to the cabinet behind him, his palms resting on the worktop for support as he dropped the bottle that leaked the dark drink. 

Steve was stood in front of him, wearing all white, with a bright golden glow from the dim lighting behind him that made his blonde hair shimmer with every subtle movement.  
“S-steve... No... This...” 

Steve took a couple of steps closer to him, casting a shadow as he seemed to loom with his large stature, “Tony...” 

Tony’s eyes instantly welled up with tears as he stared with disbelief, his entire body shaking with fear as he braced himself for his punishment. Whatever ‘this’ was, he didn’t look happy at all. He stared at him with icy eyes that could stare right into his soul to see how baron it had become. 

“Don’t do this.” Steve said, in a softer tone, though every time he spoke it seemed as though his voice was echoing. 

“What are you?” Tony yelled, demanding an answer as he narrowed his eyes, knowing his luck it was the chameleon or someone, this couldn’t be real. 

“It’s me... Tony... Please, just... Don’t do this to yourself.” 

“Get out of here.” He snarled, “How dare you imitate Steve, how dare you..!” He yelled with a shaky tone of voice, his nose crinkling as he snarled. 

“Tony...” He said, shaking his head, reaching for him and pulling him lightly into his large muscular arms that were covered by the draping white fabric that seemed to glow. Tony felt his heart sink as the familiar embrace of his friend, of his partner was felt around him, providing him with warmth when he was drenched with the rain that he had been walking in, that even left a small puddle by his feet. 

“What are you...” He yelled, and yet, he didn’t pull away. 

“It’s me... Tony... You’ve come so far, you’ve fought for what you believe in... Though we have our differences you still fight.” Steve said, keeping a secure grip of the man in his arms that didn’t put up any form of protest. 

“You can’t be back you’re dead.” He growled, hating to say that out loud, the more he said it out loud the more real it all became.  
“That doesn’t give me a reason to just leave you like that, soldier...” 

“Shut up with your soldier talk.” Tony said, lifting his hand and brushing away a tear that escaped as he looked up at Steve, then seeing faint white wings that weren’t solid, they seemed like reflections of light that just spread around them both as Steve held Tony. “...T-those are a hell of an upgrade to the ones on your helmet...” Tony stuttered. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing; an angel, a real angel and not a mutant. Steve was dead; he should be rotting in a coffin, not right in front of him with wings sprouting out of his back, wrapping them around him. Though, the second he felt them, his heart suddenly felt lighter. 

“Tony you’re better than this. You need to be strong, you need to keep going and lead now that I’m not around to...”  
“How? Tell me Steve! Not all of us can be as flawless as you are!” 

“You will find your way; just keep your head up. Don’t let your halo slip...” 

“I’m not... I’m not like you!” Tony snapped again, with more tears falling down his cheeks. 

“You’re right, you’re not like me. You’re you, you’re Tony Stark, you’re Iron Man, you’re a one in a million, a strong hero who has been through so much. You’d lost your company, fallen, and then you picked yourself up. There’s no reason you can’t do that again...” 

“Yes there is!” Tony shouted. 

“What?” 

“You... You’re not here.”

“Yes I am.”

“Stop it! No you’re not!” 

“Tony I’m always here, I always am. Just remember that, I was your hero, so make me proud.” 

Tony pulled away, covering his face over his hand and falling to his knees,  
“I can’t do this!” He yelled. The emotions had suddenly become overwhelming and suffocating; there was no way, no matter how hard he tried that he could live up to those expectations. Steve was the man his father would always prattle on about, this was the very man that he had comics, posters and action figures of. 

Steve instantly ducked down and wrapped Tony in his large wings that weighed virtually nothing, his hands reaching for Tony’s face, lightly prying his hand away and replacing it with his own as he cupped the man’s face. “You can do anything. You have the biggest heart and most pure soul I have seen. Although you fall Tony, we all fall, you pull yourself and build yourself up to be better than ever. You’re a strong person, a hero. You’re my hero.” He said, “You... gave me a home.” 

Tony’s eyes widened, he’d given up trying to fight the fact that this couldn’t be real. He just needed this, he needed thee comfort and he needed to be held by the man that he practically worshipped once. He needed to be held by the man that he loved with all of his heart. He remembered when Steve had actually said that to him, back then it meant the world to him but now it meant even more. “You’re... Dead because of me...” 

“Everything happens for a reason. You won the war-”

“I won nothing!” Tony barked back, feeling Steve’s gentle but sturdy hands keep his head up when he just wanted to pull away, but the touch felt like a warm pillow that kept him at ease and prevented him from breaking down further. 

“You won Tony. And long before that, you won my heart, and that’s something that you’ll never lose.” 

Tony stuttered, burying himself into Steve’s chest but he couldn’t hear a heartbeat, he just felt the heat of his body that he had yearned for all this time. “Steve, no, Steve...”  
“Shhh... I’m here... Tony, I’m here...” He said, lifting Tony’s face to rub his cheek against the boys. 

“Don’t leave me... It wasn’t worth it, it wasn’t worth it!” He screamed. 

“Tony... I’ll never leave you, I promise. Whenever you feel dark, whenever you feel low, just promise me you’ll just... Be strong, just remember us, remember what we had.” 

“I’ll never forget that Steve, never.” 

“And just know I’m watching over you, my hero.” He replied, “This... This wasn’t your fault, you didn’t kill me, you didn’t intend for this to happen.” 

Tony nodded, glad that Steve was being so understanding. 

“I’ll heal your heart Tony Stark, whenever you need me.” He said, “Just promise you’ll never drink the pain away.” He replied, placing his lips to the side of Tony’s jaw. 

“Steve... M-m... my hero...” He whispered, mainly to himself. “I’ll love you till I die... Beyond that even...” 

“I’ll love you too, Tony, I’ll always... Always love you.” The golden haired angel replied, holding Tony tightly as he felt the boy drift to a gentle sleep as he held him throughout the night, whispering words of comfort along with butterfly kisses to his jaw and neck.  
** This was the best dream he had ever had. In his life. Ever. 

Tony awoke the next morning, feeling the rays of sun burst though the kitchen window as he kept his eyes tightly shut, yawning and stretching his arms out as he looked around, seeing the empty bottle. He sighed deeply, 

“It was a dream...” He said partially in frustration cursing himself for believing such nonsense could be real. But he didn’t have the taste of alcohol in his mouth, and that dream felt so vividly real. Still, it was the best rest he had had since the incident. As he scrambled around the floor, trying to get up and off his knees, he suddenly saw a long white feather on the floor, reaching for it and caressing the feather, smiling ever so slightly. It could’ve been a pure coincidence that a feather had flown in, but he didn’t know what sort of bird this could’ve come from, especially since it was so large and shimmered whenever he tilted it. With a smile over his face, he got to his feet and looked into the cupboard he had broken open to see a piece of paper, his eyes narrowing as he reached into it and unfolded it. 

“I’ll love you until I die, and beyond that. Stay strong. –S Rogers.” It read, it was definitely Steve’s handwriting, that distinct messy scribble. He placed the paper to his nose and low and behold, it even smelled of him. He held the letter close to his glowing reactor that seemed to be glowing even brighter after he had found the letter.  
He took a breath, raised his head and regained a strong confident posture again, exhaling as he folded the letter and kept it in his chest pocket of his white shirt.  
“Thank you... Steve.” He said softly.


End file.
